The True Confessions of Hermione Granger
by Mio Granger
Summary: I feel very foolish about starting a diary at the age of sixteen, but Ginny says it helps a lot... Hermione begins a journal detailing the summer after her fifth year. A quirky look into the sensible mindframe of everyone's favorite knowitall.
1. Beginning Through Chess, June 21 to 26

The True Confessions of Hermione Granger  
by Mio Granger

* * *

June 21st

I feel very foolish about starting a diary at the age of sixteen, but Ginny says it helps a lot, and with the stress of...EVERYTHING, I need help. Ginny and I have been spending a lot of time together recently, because the adults are all crazy and almost more protective over us than Harry. While boys can be tortured and killed, girls can be raped, and even a Death Eater would condescend to ravish a Mudblood or a Muggle-lover for a bit of fun. I realize how flippant I'm being about it, but really, flippant's the only way to be unless you want to go half mad with anxiety, like the adults. They relax a bit when we go everywhere together, the ridiculous notion of 'safety in numbers' soothing their frantic minds. It sure didn't help the French at Avignon, now did it?

None of my wizarding friends would've gotten that joke. Not just the intellectual part, but whole history aspect. Hogwarts only highlights strictly magical history, and Avignon doesn't fall into that category. It's a shame the entire wizarding community is so singleminded, for all the bluster. If I'm Head...

You know, something about the crisp white paper makes you want to scribble down your deepest desires, but I don't feel quite comfortable with that yet, so I'll speak of more mundane things.

Harry and Remus are always absorbed in deep conversation in the most shadowy part of the parlor. They've built a sort of shrine to Sirius in the hall where they burned his mother's portrait (yes, they had a _lot_ of anger, and I for one am glad the terrible old biddy's gone) and nearly every day something new is added to it. It makes me sad, that Harry and Remus most of any of us have to suffer this incredible hurt, day after day looking at a chair Sirius had sat in or a cupboard door he'd banged in shin on...oops, sorry for the smudge. Tears don't wipe off wet ink so cleanly, you know? It also makes me sad that Harry tells all his feelings to Remus and not at all to me. I don't begrudge Remus that honor, but I _am_ Harry's best friend, after all.

I just looked at that last sentence and it occurred to me that if I'm his vest friend, _I_ can seek him out as well as _he_ seeking me. I'm off to do that now, hope Ron doesn't come blundering in on us.

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June 26th

Bugger. Ron did end up barging in, but Harry and I had a nice long chat anyway, yes, and I believe he's going to start confiding in me as well as Remus; thank goodness, I was beginning to lose touch with him. Well, we had quite a good heart to heart, during which I cried quite a bit (my time of the month, can't you tell?), and then Harry actually broke down and cried. It was the optimal time for a hug, so I gave him one, and right in the middle of it, Ron came in. His face turned bright red, from the tips of his ears to the back of his neck, and I could feel mine go red in response for the thing he was silently accusing me of. (A sight I must've looked, blotchy from crying and scarlet in addition!) And in the space of a second, I became self-righteously furious. Was I not allowed to give my best friend who was going through severe emotional trauma a hug? I flapped my hands at Ron from behind Harry's back, making angry grimaces at him, and he backed out again. Harry and I ended our hug, and if he noticed my face was still unduly red, he took it as a side effect of tears.

We were just phasing back into normal conversation when Ginny burst in. She had been looking for me all after noon and Ron had only just condescended to tell her I was in the study with Harry and Mum had dinner ready in the kitchen. We banked the fire and headed there, Ginny chattering nonsense at us and Harry attempting to surreptuously scrub the red away from his eyes. Then Ginny, in the midst of inane gossip, says, "I'll tell Mum you went to the loo, Harry," and continued prattling away. Harry and I exchanged amazed looks, because Ginny—well, she can get on your nerves sometimes, but she's just that great of a person that you don't mind it too much. So Harry went off to clean himself up, and Ginny and I progressed to dinner, where, of all people, Remus proceeded to give me concerned looks. Everyone else was too busy plowing into the scrumptious repast Mrs. Weasley likes to call dinner to notice that dear Hermione had an unusually shiny nose. Remus is always noticing things like that, though. I wonder if maybe he can smell emotions, I think I've read somewhere that werewolves have heightened senses, particularly smell, all the time, not just during the full moon. Something to ask him next time he deems it appropriate to talk to me.

So that was the rest of Friday, and Saturday Tonks wrestled permission from the Powers That Be to take Ginny and I shopping. Ginny's been receiving a commission from Fred and George for "services rendered," which means either she's been helping test their products, been rounding up innocents to test their products on, or offered her insight into a revolutionary new prank. I got the cutest pair of tan corduroy pants and a modest off-the-shoulder sweater for this winter, plus a necklace that's the outline of a rose, but they cost me a fortune. If I wasn't so set against the twins wasting their talent on jokes, I'd offer a few ideas myself. A girl's always ready for some spare cash.

Sunday even Harry granted some time out of Grimmaud Place that wasn't within close proximity to the Dursleys, and he and I took Ron to the library and attempted to show him how to use the internet.

Monday, we (trio—me, Harry, and Ron) took a jaunt up to the attic and rediscovered some boxes that had apparently been given back to the Blacks after Harry's grandparents copped it—ARGH, Ron's callous manner is rubbing off on me—full of Sirius' things. Notes to his friends (Harry pocketed a few of these), badges and ribbons and other mementos, the odd books or two (The Weird Sisters Complete History, The Werewolf In All Of Us: Coming To Terms With Your Lycanthropy (a note in the front cover explained that To Whom It May Concern, Sirius had tried to present it to Moony as a gag Christmas gift one year and soon found himself dodging it, due to the fact that Remus chucked it at his head, but it was, nonetheless, a very interesting read.), Hexes like A Bat Out Of Hell, and a pressed narcissus flower. That evening, Dung tried to sell Emmaline Vance Lobalug venom, and was severely reprimanded. Despite her softly curling chestnut hair and large lash-fringes eyes, that woman can deliver a lecture to rival Mrs. Weasley's. I admire her.

I would be deceiving myself if I didn't write that I went back up to the attic later and pocketed that werewolf book myself. I simply cannot resist the promise of an intriguing text. So far, however, it looks to be the sort of stuff a teenaged Sirius _would_ find 'interesting.' There's a whole section on the sex patterns of the werewolf!

Yesterday was too banal to bother recording, except that Fred and George gracewd this miserable house with their presence for a few hours. They swept in here, showing off their, um, what do you call it, oh yes, _bling-bling_ in the form of pure gold cloak clasps, designer Hogsmeade robes, a beautiful jeweled bracelet for their mum and a silver pocket watch for Mr. Weasley. Unobserved, they snuck Ron and Ginny extra Extendable ears and a few other 'necessities', with the implication to share the goods.

Tonight I plan to finish my astronomy homework, but in the meantime I'll doubtless crush Harry at a few games of chess and be crushed by Ron in a few more. Grimmaud Place gets abysmally dull after a while.


	2. Whiskey Through Rosebush, July 3 to 6

The True Confessions of Hermione Granger  
by Mio Granger

* * *

July 3rd

Oh, I'm so excited! We're leaving this dreadful place tomorrow and going to the Burrow! It seems that the adults have been working on the wards for a long time now, and all they needed was last full moon and then a little help from Remus, and it's all set to go, snug and safe, as far as the village. They just told us today as a surprise, and it's made us all ever so happy. I feel like I could float, and Ginny's gone around with an extra bounce in her step that makes her hair fly everywhere, and Harry and Ron grin madly at each other in five minute intervals.

This past week has been just as lackluster as ever. I'm officially done with every piece of homework I could do, and Tonks has been out on an assignment and Fred and George are utterly embroiled in their entrepreneur, and seeing the same people over and over again at Grimmaud Place does not have the same sort of effect as seeing them over and over again at Hogwarts. I was growing heartily sick of flaming Weasley red hair and piercing green eyes until we got the news. Now I'd be willing to dye my own hair red.

Not really though. I don't have much….well, it's not as strong as respect, but I kind of think that people who dye their hair are a bit pathetic. Unless it's purple or something, and then you're just silly. To each her own, I suppose.

Snape has been sweeping through the house like a madman. He's at the crucial bit of an important mission, but all he can do is hope other people take the right cues and pray. Not that he's been doing a lot of that. He doesn't strike me as particularly religious, especially since he's swearing, really obscene stuff too, under his breath whenever he thinks no one can hear him. An odd form of venting his feelings, but if it works…. I just wish he wouldn't keep throwing us vile glares every time he came into the kitchen. Ginny and Ron are trying to bake a cake for Mrs. Weasley and Harry and I are sitting at the table respectively reading and writing. He actually had the cheek to ask us if we were all packed the second time he stormed through! I think he just wants us to leave so he can get himself a whiskey from the fridge. If I was a bit bolder, I'd get one out and hand it to him. Could you just imagine his face!

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July 5th

Burrow sweet Burrow! I realized, of course, what a dismal feeling hung in the air at Grimmaud Place, but the contrast is stunning. Everyone is so much more carefree. The boys are out flying almost all day, and Ginny's enchanted a CD player so she could make me listen to this country song that her friend Victoria Hanley brought back from America last summer. Her favorite song is called "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy," which I didn't get at first, but she told me to think in the most suggestive way possible. It's a good song, actually, but God forbid Harry or Ron hear us listening to it. Or worse, someone like Remus!

Who is also staying at the Burrow. He's translating some ancient text for Dumbledore, I think, so he needs the protections, plus he's a good confidante for Harry. It's my turn to help Mrs. Weasley get dinner started, though, so I've got to go do that.

July 6th

Oh, I feel the right fool! My face is still burning from it. All I can say is, once I've gotten over the initial embarrassment, I can't let this ruin our friendship. To think—Ron's fancied me for ages and everyone but me knew about it. Gah! I think I shall go drown myself.

Later

Failed dismally at that too. Ginny caught me halfway through and made me get out of the bathtub. That girl is driving me insane. It's too bad we're on her home turf and I daren't do anything. First she goes and dumps it on me that her brother practically idolizes me, then she says that she won't tell a soul that I am now aware of what everyone else within five miles already knew and don't feel the same way, unless I do, and then she'll go and wave banners in Ron's face about it.

Me! Fancy _Ron_? I mean, not that he's unfanciable or anything, I'm sure that if girls could get past his utterly male apathy and interest in nothing but himself, they'd be crawling all over him—I mean, I'm not friends with him solely because he and Harry are a package deal. And red hair is rather attractive, and Ron's quite tall. But. But when you start a friendship with nothing but friendship on your mind, and you continue that way for five years, it's a little hard to start working romance into the equation. At times I feel simply like a Weasley sans red hair. The same goes for Harry. Well, I didn't get into a friendship with him solely for friendship, you must remember I was a quixotic little eleven year old, but we've been just friends for nearly all the time we've been friends that it would be near impossible to love him. That way. Because I do love Harry and Ron with all of my heart, like brothers, or more than brothers, but it's strictly platonic. Plato knew what he was talking about. I am quite proud of myself to be able to hold a platonic relationship with not only one boy, but two. Platonic is such a tricky thing to do, so few people ever have genuinely platonic relationships. Now I am just blathering, in hopes that I distract myself from the matter at hand.

Argh. I've Ginny at my elbow asking me if I want to talk every three seconds. I'll go shake her off by finding Harry.

Even Later

This is what I'm reduced to. Hiding under scraggly bushes outside the living room window. I feel like a bandit with a diary.

I went to find Harry. Oh, yes, I searched the Burrow high and low, cleverly avoiding Ron, and then I took myself outside and searched there too. What did I find? Harry and Remus, half-sloshed, cozied up in the Weasley's broom shed, sharing old school gossip over bottle of Firewhiskey! As I came upon the shed, I could hear Remus' voice, slurring a little.

"Now Narcissa Black, there wah an enigma. She was alwaysh—hic—pardon moi—the little social butterfly, surrounded by a carefully neutral group of friends. Never outright nasty the 'Mudbloods' of the school, but never too close. Nope. The shurprising thing about her engagement to Malfoy was that they'd never been seen together. Probably orchestrated by the parents."

Then came Harry, sounding more far-gone than Remus by a half.

"She ignore Shiriush like the resht—hic—of that no-good family of—hic—shcoundrels?"

"As far as I could tell, they weren't close, but closer than the rest of the family. Sirius was the main source of enter-a-tat-tainment at Hogwarts, and it was good for her popularity to be on shpeaking terms with him. He was so guarded when it came to anything to do with family, for all I know they wash having duels every other night!"

Then I descended, using the time for good practice of unconventional French. I was yelling every swear word I could remember from my holiday in between admonitions to Remus for letting Harry drink Firewhiskey, Harry for going along with the obviously irresponsible Remus, and a little of everything else. They gaped at me for a minute, then each grinned for different reasons. It only made me more furious.

"Geesh, Mio, hic, you need to lighten—hic—up a little," Harry slurred up at me. "We wash only—hic—having a bit of fun, drowning our shorrows, ya know?"

"A bit of fun? Harry, you're completely drunk! That's not a bit of fun, that's—"

"You remind me of Lily, Hermione," Remus interrupted pleasantly, attempting to sound sober. If I'm not mistaken, he shot a sly glance at Harry. Why is everyone trying to set me up with my best friends? "So pretty, and _sho_ concerned with propriety and the rules—until, of course, it suits you not to."

"Well, really!" I huffed, and stormed off. Behind me, I could hear Harry tell Remus in what he thought was a quiet voice, "Eggshellent job at getting rid of her, we could ushe—hic—you when exshams come 'round."

So it was no use talking to Harry about my impending future, or lack thereof, with Ron, and I'm completely doomed. Doomed girl sitting under a badly-pruned rosebush. All I can think of is that Remus Lupin is utter cad, even if he was more than a little inebriated, and for some reason my mind keeps going back to that pressed flower in the attic. Gack! Gack and good riddance!

Three Minutes After That

Remus just walked past this bush and mutter out of the corner of his mouth, "Astonishing grasp of the language of romance, regardless." I think I may go drown myself in Ginny's bathtub again, and remember to lock the door this time.


	3. Flying Through Apollonia, July 8 to 16

The True Confessions of Hermione Granger

* * *

July 8th

It's almost unnerving how dependant I've become on this blank little book. It's been, what?—just over two weeks, and only five entries, but I feel like I must put down all important happenings here, or I won't remember them. "Important happenings" in my life seem to be rather fleeting right now, though whether that reflects the insignificance of my life or the sheltered quality of life at the Burrow, I wouldn't know. Sorry, I've just started Proust, at the behest of Remus—or maybe just because I saw it among his papers, shh. A bit depressing indeed, but incredibly broadening. Or no, I suppose the depression is due to the broadening. Remus seems to be having quite the influence on all of us, actually: besides being Harry's close confidant, I've seen Ron and Ginny earnestly listening to his recollections of his school days, eyes shining with inspiration.

And that brings me to my second point! Ron. Ron! It's a bit nerve wracking, being around him lately, but I think I've perfected a balance of friendship and hands-off interaction that will ensure he stays at bay until….well, until he gets over his ridiculous crush. Unrequited love is difficult to maintain, and especially so for Ron. It's only a matter of time.

I've finally lost my fear of flying! I owe that to Charlie, he's up here for the month and was giving the rest of them Quidditch tips while I'll looked on (Proust in hand, of course). Caught sight of me and demanded to know why I wasn't on a broom. He's worse than Harry and Ron with the whole Quidditch thing, if you can believe that. Sort of reminded me of Oliver Wood, actually, only a bit more laid-back. I couldn't shake him off with the usual answers, and before I knew it I was seated in front of him on his Comet 260, taking off above the trees. My goodness, he went so fast I neared gave a technicolor hiccough, if you know what I mean. But he was very calming, must be all the work he does with dragons, soothing them so they don't set him on fire and bit off vital limbs and whatnot. The whoosh, the rush! No, really, I believe quite a bit of my hair ended up in Charlie's mouth at some point, whipping jauntily like a proud flag in the brisk broom-induced wind. So he has the forbearance of a saint, that, because my hair is quite prickly and rough when thrust into one's face a speeds nearing the sound barrier. To cut to the chase, I soon took control of the broom and then even went up myself, the Weasleys and Harry cheering me on and lauding Charlie for his ability to do what no one else could, and coax me willingly onto a broom.

It was quite fun.

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July 12th

Burrow v. uneventful, but v. relaxing. Spent the past few days lazing about. Did fly some. Can't be bothered with complete sentences. Homemade ice cream delicious.

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July 13th

Mum and Dad are back from France, they managed to send me an owl correctly! I brought back Apollonia from a quick nip down Diagon Alley right at the beginning of the summer while we were in London. She's a gorgeous Jamaican owl, imported from the Americas, and I do think she was the best present I could have brought them. Dad was quite taken with her. In addition to their note, they sent me _Le Petit Prince_ by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, which I adored as a child, and will also further my knowledge of French. Just in case Remus decides he does want to know if I have that good a grasp of it.

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July 16th

We're off to town! I fear what will become of Ottery St. Catchpole. More tomorrow, when I have time.


End file.
